


Candlelight and Clockwork

by PingZing



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-05
Updated: 2011-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PingZing/pseuds/PingZing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After achieving God-tier, John decides to pay a visit to LOLAR. En-route he collapses, and Rose and Dave must find time to restore him to health.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rose

Somewhere in the periphery of his awareness, John hears a match flare. The acrid smell of briefly burning sulfur rouses him from his stupor, and he groans. He feels the air in the room shift and he catches a whiff of smoke. He feels the ground tremble slightly as the sound of footsteps approaches. A warm hand gently presses against his forehead, and he shivers at the difference in skin temperature. For an instant, the hand feels too cold and dry, before he realizes it's his skin that feels feverish and clammy. He shivers again, uncontrollably this time, and clutches the blanket closer to his chest.

_What? A blanket? Where am―_

“We wondered when you were going to wake up. I was beginning to fear I would need to take drastic measures."

John opens his eyes and is met with the sight of Rose sitting over him wielding a glass of water and a small smile. He is in a dimly-lit room, with sporadically placed candles providing flickering illumination. Underneath him is an unfamiliar bed, but the room's design and candy-colored light from the gaps in the curtains tell him it's probably Rose's. The flames from the candles make shadows jump and shudder erratically and for a moment, John is certain that Rose's shadow is larger than it should be. In an instant the illusion vanishes and he shakes his head.

“Rose? What's going on?”

“It would appear that in the course of your travels, you neglected to recall the simplest piece of advice given to you by your father regarding cold weather,” she says, and sets the glass down on a table beside the bed.

“What?”

A third voice chimes in from John's left, “He warned you about colds, bro.”

John turns his head and sees Dave leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, smirking.

“He warned you, dog,” says Rose. John turns to her in surprise. Her expression is desperately trying to hide her amusement, but the twitches at the corners of her mouth give her away.

“I didn't think you'd get in on Dave's, uh...” John trails off.

“Preposterous foolishness?” Rose suggests.

“Ridiculous nuttery?” John says.

“Harebrained hilarity?” Rose returns, grinning.

“Unmitg―“

“Okay, whatever silly thing you're about to say?” Dave cuts in, “Don't say it. I can just see it fucking bubbling up through the cracks in your ridiculous prankstery brain, so you cap that shit right now, or I'm going to contract diabetes this very second. Like, it'll take all the insulin in goddamn Larry King's home and then some just to keep me stable if this gets any more saccharine.”

“Huh? What do you mean, Dave?”

Dave is silent for a moment, nonplussed. He glances at John, then at Rose, then back at John. “...Egbert, you're my best bro, but I cannot believe how dense you are sometimes. Look, Rose, can you handle the explanation? I've got some goddamn temporal cluster-predestination-fuckery to take care of. Apparently. I'll be back in exactly twenty-seven minutes. Or so I hear.” And with that, Dave steps out of the room.

John blinks for a moment and turns to Rose. “'The explanation', huh? Dave makes it sound like some super-secret plan to...I dunno, really!”

Rose leans back and looks up. “Tell me John, what's the last thing you remember before waking up here?”

John pauses for a moment and thinks. “Well, I had just woken up on the battlefield after going to sleep on my Quest Bed thing. And after what I saw in the clouds I...didn't really want to go back to my planet. Not right away, anyway. And since I didn't really know what to do on the battlefield without talking to you, I decided to come here. Oh! Rose, did you know I can fly now?”

“Yes, as a consequence of ascending to the God-tiers and realizing your role as the Heir of Breath. Or perhaps because you're inhabiting your dream self's body, which is capable of flight. I'm not entirely certain.”

“I guess I shouldn't be surprised you know all this,” John laughs. “No one can beat Rose Lalonde in a Seer-off. You are simply the best there is.”

“So what happened after that John?”

“Well, I was...I uh...” John trails off. He frowns and looks down for a moment. “I don't remember.”

“Then allow me to attempt to fill in the gaps. I was watching you through my crystal ball--” Rose pauses for a moment to glare at a snickering John. John holds his hands up in surrender, and Rose continues, “I was watching you fly to my planet when you fell unconscious. You crashed into a sand dune and I found you about ten minutes after that."

“Okay...but what does that have to do with my dad’s advice?”

“John, what does every parent tell their child about going out in cold weather?”

“Uh...don't eat yellow snow?”

“Y-what? No, John. They tell you to dress warmly. Because if you don’t, you’ll catch a cold. Which is strictly speaking, false, as colds are caused by pathogens rather than inclement weather. However, unpleasant weather does have a variety of effects that lead to a higher chance of catching a cold.” John's eyes begin to glaze over. “Regardless, you’ve been traipsing around a windy, chilly planet for quite some time now, and I refuse to believe that an apparently all-cake diet has bolstered your immune system. It’s likely you caught something a few days ago, and it’s just now manifesting,” Rose finishes triumphantly.

John nods. “I guess that makes sense. Except...” He frowned. “If I just hit the God-tier, that means I'm my dream self right now, right? And I think ascending is supposed to heal me...I think it’d be kinda weird if it left me sick!”

Rose’s face falls. “Oh. Yes, I suppose that does make sense. No sense in allowing a player to ascend and then allowing them to be done in by simple illness. Perhaps you’re simply exhausted then? Either way, you’ve got a fever and you fell unconscious a few hundred feet up in the air. It’s a miracle you’re not seriously injured.”

“Oh, why'd you have to bring it up? Now I feel awful again...” says John.

His fever returns in full force, and he fails to repress a shiver that shakes him from head to toe. Alternating waves of heat and chill make him sweat and shiver as he draws the blanket closer to his body and squeezes his eyes shut. He’d been feeling fine while he was speaking, but now that his body has caught up to his mind, it's presenting the bill for damages incurred. Bruises, check. His entire left side is tender whenever he shifts. Soreness, double check. Every limb aches as though he's run a marathon after a championship weightlifting tournament. A buzzing in the back of his head had been gradually transforming into a headache over the course of his time spent awake, and is making its presence known. John is suddenly very grateful for the dimness of the room after he recalls how bright Rose's planet typically is. Speaking of which...

“Rose?”

“Yes, John?” Rose had remained silent as John took stock of his maladies. She leans forward.

“Why are you using candles, anyway? It's not like it's dark outside.” 

It's difficult for John to tell in the low light, but he could swear Rose is blushing. Her face remains impassive, but her voice betrays her. “I simply prefer candlelight to the gaudy pastels this planet insists on bombarding its occupants with with.”

John peers at the candle more closely, realizes he's missing his glasses, and finds them on the bedside table. He puts them on and examines the candle before grinning triumphantly. “I knew it!”

Rose looks at the candle herself and raises a single eyebrow, “What, may I ask is it that you knew, John?”

John turns to Rose, trademark full-faced grin present on his face. “Dribbly candles! You're pretending to be a wizard!”

Rose takes a deep breath before she lets out a protracted sigh and gently lowers her face into her palm.


	2. Dave

Dave walks in precisely twenty-seven minutes after his departure, looking the worse for wear. The sleeves and ends of his suit are singed, smoke is trailing from his head. He leans against the wall next to the door frame silently and adopts an air of detached nonchalance. Or he attempts to anyway; his facade is shattered when he loses his balance and topples to the ground in an undignified heap. He quickly rearranges himself with his back against the wall and his legs sprawled in front.

He shoots Rose a look that says _What? I did that on purpose. Just wanted to lay down, s'more comfortable like that._

She replies with a look that says _Of course._  
  
Dave speaks up,  “Bit of advice for you, Lalonde. If anybody asks if you want to be the Seer of Time? Don't accept.”

Rose brings a hand to her chest, and covers her mouth. “What? Mister Strider, are you implying that your role is actually... _difficult_ for you?”

Dave snorts. “Nah, 'course not. Shit's as cool as ice water up in Santa's backyard. Just a bit of friendly advice from the master. Just don't think you'd be up to it, s'all.”

Rose rolls her eyes and stands up. “Good, then you can watch John for a while,” she says as she retrieves a bowl from the bedside table. “He fell asleep again shortly after you left. True sleep this time, rather than unconsciousness.”

“You got it, nothing a Knight does better than protect sleeping beauties.” Dave pauses for a moment. “What's with the bowl?”

“Soup. I made it shortly after your departure. Why?”

Dave's face remains impassive. “Soup.”

“Yes. What of it?”

Dave shakes his head and looks down. “Nothing. Not a damn thing. Go do whatever it is you're going to do, I've got this.”

Rose rolls her eyes again and leaves the room. Dave waits until he’s certain he can no longer hear her footsteps and levers himself back up into a standing position. He strides across the room and stubs his toe on the leg of the chair Rose was sitting in.

“Augh, gogdammit, fuck!” he snarls into his sleeve, and collapses into the chair.

John opens his eyes and blinks blearily before rubbing them. “Dave? ‘zat you? Wha’re you yellin’ at?”

Dave quickly arranges himself on the chair and leans back nonchalantly. “Yelling? Who’s yelling? Can’t have been me, I never raise my voice above a suave fuckin’ baritone.”

John stares at Dave for several seconds too long in the way of the just-awakened or the too-drunk. Dave leans back in the chair and props his feet up on the bed. “What?”

John squints at Dave, paws at the bedside table for a moment, and then slaps a hand to his face. Finding his glasses there, he returns his gaze to Dave. “You don’t look so good, that’s what!”

“What the hell are you talking about? I look fantastic. Never better. The pinnacle of manliness. Bond’s got nothing on me.”

“Your hair’s smoking.”

Dave drops his feet to the floor and leans in closer. “Know why?”

“Why?”

“It’s because I’m hotter than the sun, and the game just can’t handle me. I _sizzle_ , bro. Why d’you think I got the Land of _Heat_ and Clockwork?”

John’s face twists in to a quizzical frown.“…Dave, are you trying to seduce me?”

Dave looks down and rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Yeah bro, that’s exactly what’s going on here. Trying to insinuate myself directly into your pants. Nothing higher on my list of priorities than that.”

John looks down and wrings his hands together. “Because…I think we’re kinda young for that, you know? But…” John looks up. “Maybe when we’re older?”

Dave freezes and makes a strained choking sound. His face twitches involuntarily as he attempts, and fails to form words.

John bursts into laughter.

“HaHA! I got you good, Dave! You should see the look on your face! Oh man, that was _classic!_ ”

Dave swears and grabs the nearest object he can find, and hurls it at John. John has a split second to wonder why Rose has a plush doll that looks like Casey the Salamander before catching it full in the face. This only makes him laugh harder, and he begins to cough, tears running down his face. He breaks into a full-blown coughing fit before recovering and chuckling weakly.

“Haha, ow. Don’t make me laugh like that, that hurts. But that was so worth it!” says John, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Not cool, bro,” Dave mutters.

“Hehehe…sorry Dave. I couldn’t resist, it was just so easy!” John says.

“Shit…I guess I should have seen that coming; no one can beat you in a prank-off. You are simply yadda yadda yadda, I’m too goddamn tired to finish up the meme, but you get it,” says Dave.

John frowns and peers quizzically at Dave. It’s unlike him to not relish every second of an in-joke as he tells it. Besides the cosmetic signs of wear and tear about his person, there are other subtle things John begins to notice. The way dark circles line his eyes, visible even in darkness and behind sunglasses; the way he hunches ever-so-slightly to the side, as if he can barely remain sitting, the way his temper is frayed to paper-thinness and whipcrack-strength. The way he stares at nothing in the moments between speech, as if he’s forgotten that he should be paying attention to anything. The way it takes him a moment to register anything John says.

John realizes Dave is truly and completely exhausted.

“Hey…Dave…are you okay?”

Dave’s head snaps up to stare at John. “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ great. Why?”

“You look really, really tired, man. Have you not been sleeping lately or something?” John asks, worry written all over his face.

Dave scoffs. “Hell no, the Sandman and I are best buds. Drink at the same bars, visit the same clubs, play the same golf courses. I know the names of his kids and what kind of car he drives. We’re like _this_ , man,” Dave says, pointing at John and crossing two fingers and holding them up.

“Dave,” John says, worry plainly evident in his voice now, “I’m over here.”

Dave swivels two inches to the left and makes eye-shades contact with John. He grimaces. “…fuck.”

“When was the last time you slept, Dave?”

Dave looks away, even though his shades and the darkness already hide his eyes from view. “It’s been a few days, man. I haven’t slept since we started playing.”

“But we’ve only been playing for a few hours, what do you mean ‘a few days’?”

“Knight of Time bro, remember? It’s only been a few hours for you, but I’ve gone back and done it over and over again. Shit starts to blur together in your mind after a while.”

“But you’ve been going to sleep and doing stuff with your dream self, right? What about then?”

Dave shakes his head. “Naps. The less time I spend with the evil space-calamari Rose enjoys so much, the better. I’m telling you man, it’s like they’re trying to fondle your mind with their limitless flagella. Stranger danger to the max right there.

“But yeah, turns out time travel’s a pretty shitty power. Know why?” Dave leans forward and grits his teeth. “Because _it owns you_. Yeah, it’s bailed me out of some pretty sick jams, but most of the time it’s a massive pain in the ass. I only do it now because if I don’t all the badass future mes won’t even fucking exist to have saved my ass in the first place. I get chronologically strong-armed into doing half the things I do.”

Dave’s expression fades completely. “When I got a chance, I started exploring all our planets, seeing what they were like. I figured why the hell not? I had all the time in the world. I was on yours when Jade entered. You know Jack was on your planet then, right?”

John nods. Dave sits up straight, and what he does next shocks John.

He takes off his shades.

John’s eyes widen as Dave turns face him. Dave’s eyes are sunken and bloodshot, and without the bulky frames hiding his face, Dave looks small, fragile and hollowed out. John barely even notices the strangeness of Dave’s red eyes. He realizes that Dave isn’t looking at him, so much as looking through him; remembering.

“My Bro was there too. He and Jack were fighting, and Davesprite too. And then Jade entered, with her hellbeast devil-dog prototyped with her sprite. And then fucking Jack Noir…” Dave trails off.

John gasps as the realization hits him like a hammerblow. “Is…is your bro okay?” He asks, but he already knows the answer.

Dave just looks at him. Stares past him. Squeezes his glasses so hard they creak.

John doesn’t even think, he lunges from the bed and wraps Dave in flying hug. Dave freezes and remains as stiff as a board while John squeezes the life out of him.

“Egbert, what the hell d’you think you’re—” Dave begins.

“You need a hug, so you’re getting a hug, Dave. That is really all there is to say on the matter.” 

Dave hesitates before he tentatively returns the hug. “Fine. Just remember one thing, John.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“If you tell a fucking soul about this, I will make you never have happened.”

“You got it bro.”

They stay like that for a while.

\--

When Rose returns, Dave is fast asleep on the bed and John is sitting in the chair, watching over him. Rose shoots John a questioning look and John just shrugs and says “He needed it more than I did.”


	3. Evening Breeze

Rose’s eyes read the scene in front of her the way she reads her books or sheet music. She examines each element, ferreting out minute details, then assembles each into a coherent whole, drawing inferences all the while.

There in the corner is the Viceroy’s salamancer plush haphazardly discarded and looking forlorn. Dave lies sprawled and asleep on the bed, his arms and legs askew like a great spider, albeit with half the requisite limbs. John is sitting on the chair beside the bed, grinning sheepishly, having apparently swapped places with Dave. Lying on the bedside table, deceptively innocuous, are Dave’s shades; the meaning of which is not lost on Rose. She turns to John and raises a single eyebrow weighty with inquisitive significance, meaning packed tightly into the subtle gesture.

John shrugs, still smiling and says “He needed it more than I did.”

Rose frowns. Perhaps the weighty significance of her raised eyebrow wasn’t communicated quite so effectively after all. “John, I find myself continually surprised and impressed by your apparently-unconscious charisma.”

John tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Rose shakes her head and smiles. “John what you’ve accomplished is nothing short of miraculous. Do you realize the significance of what you’ve done in a short time?” she says.

John blinks, looks at Dave, looks back at Rose and shakes his head.

“Uhh, nope, can’t say I see what you’re talking about Rose!”  
  
Rose walks over to John’s chair and rests her hand on the seat-back next to his shoulder. John looks up at her as she explains, “Dave never takes his sunglasses off. Have you ever wondered why?”  
  
John shrugs. “Because he’s ironic and badass?” he says.

“As much as he’d like us to believe that, no. All signs indicate that he wears them as a form of defense, to distance himself from others. Behind his shades, he’s safe. Without them, he feels vulnerable,” she says. “That he trusts you enough to take them off—and go to sleep no less!—in your presence speaks volumes,” she finishes, smiling.

John turns back to Dave and watches thoughtfully for a moment. “You really think so?” he finally asks.

“Absolutely, John. You’re a good friend.”

John is silent for a moment, and a broad smile slowly spreads across his face. “Thanks.”

Rose’s face drops into a disapproving frown as she turns to look directly at John. “It occasionally strikes me that you are perhaps too good a friend. As touching as this act of selflessness is, the fact remains that you are ill and we are attempting to speed your recovery by allowing you bed rest. Bed rest that you seem to have convinced Dave to take in your stead,” she says, crossing her arms. “Are you aware of the ramifications of your actions?”  
  
“Uh…I don’t think I follow.”

“With Dave asleep, our ingenious plan to nurse you back to health in a timely manner is doomed to failure. You see, this entire operation hinged on our taking no more than an hour of real time through the use of stable time loops. But with Sir Slumber here asleep,” Rose waves a hand at Dave, “It appears our options are somewhat limited.”

“Come on, I thought you’d have this shit together by now Rose,” comes Dave’s voice.

John and Rose start, and look to the bed. No, Dave is still asleep.

“No no, wrong impossibly handsome asshole. Over here.”

John and Rose turn to the doorway to find Dave leaning nonchalantly—successfully this time—against the doorframe. His arms are crossed and the Timetables float in front of him, whirring quietly. He’s changed out of the long sleeves and jeans that the sleeping Dave is currently wearing. Instead he’s attired in an extraordinarily comfortable-looking red suit.  
  
“As if sleeping would slow me down at all. Leave Princess Helen over there asleep for a while, I’ll pick up the time-traveling slack,” Dave says.

John’s eyes have gone wide and he looks between sleeping Dave and the Dave in the doorway. Back to the sleeper. Back to the doorway. His mouth slowly forms an “o” of incredulity.  
  
“You all right there, bro? Or is the concentrated coolness too much for you?” Dave says.

“That…is soooo coooool! So you’re a future Dave, right?” John asks, leaning forward. “What’s the future like?”

Dave banishes the Timetables to his sylladex. “Goddammit Egbert, I just woke up like five minutes ago. For me, it feels like maybe ten minutes ago we were sitting around shooting the shit in this very room. But for him,” Doorway-Dave points at sleeping-Dave, “It’ll be like, ten hours before he stops macking on the Sandman. C’mon man, this isn’t fucking rocket surgery—keep up.”

John looks up at the ceiling and appears lost in thought for a moment. He counts on his fingers for a moment before looking back down and frowning. “Wait a minute. If you’ve been around for ten hours, and we go back at the end of every hour…does that mean there are ten Daves running around?” he asks.  
  
“Yep. Ten of ya’ll, it’s one hell of a clone party up in here right now.” Dave says.

The other two stare at Dave as if he’s suddenly transformed into a particularly horrific Outer God.  
  
“Whoa, what is it? Am I fucking glowing or some awesome shit?” Dave asks. “I knew it, two of me in the same room together was just too much for the universe to handle.”  
  
“Dave, while I was intellectually aware of the fact that you hailed from Texas…hearing you actually speak in a region-specific dialect has, I admit, caught me off guard. I imagine John’s reaction is for a similar reason,” Rose answers, crossing her arms and grinning.

John bursts out laughing. “You…you…oh my god, you said “ya’ll”! Oh man, I can’t believe…Dave…oh geez, haha!” 

Dave raises a single eyebrow. “Shit, I thought _ya’ll_ ,” Dave draws out the word, “Had something better than that to be surprised about. Jegus. Anyway, we need to get a move on some time soon, or we’ll break the time loop and doom ourselves forever. Let’s amscray.” Dave turns and beckons for the other two to follow him.

John and Rose exchange a glance. John mouths _“Ya’ll”_ and Rose snickers. The two of them follow Dave out into the hallway. Dave pushes aside a black curtain blocking the rest of the hallway from view, and John squints as the psychedelic pastel lights of Rose’s planet infiltrate his retinas. All at once his headache returns and it’s all he can do to keep his eyes open a crack. His balance wavers and he catches himself on the wall. Dave and Rose turn to look at the sound and John waves them off.

“I’m fine,” he says with his eyes opened a crack. He aims for eye contact, but the headache and searing light throw off his aim and he just about makes nose contact.

Dave and Rose exchange a momentary glance before Dave strides forward, grabs John around his midsection, and bodily heaves the sick boy over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

“Problem solved,” Dave says, ignoring John’s weak protests. “Hey, shut up back there or I’ll drop you.”

John shuts up. Dave resumes walking toward their destination and Rose follows, a thoughtful expression warring for dominance with a bemused one on her face.

“Thanks Dave,” John says eventually, “I owe you one.”

Dave snorts. “No you don’t. This is payback for earlier in the room.”

“Payback? You mean when I gave you a h—” 

“Yeah. Now don’t mention it,” Dave says, interrupting John before he can spill the beans and ruin his image forever.

Rose speaks up, “As intrigued as I am in your cryptic non-descriptions, I feel the need to inquire—where precisely is it that you’re leading us, Dave?”

Dave grunts. “Relax, I’ve got a handle on this time shit, okay? We just gotta find some place we weren’t an hour ago or so. I dunno about ya’ll,” John snickers again, and Dave ignores him, “But I remember walking this hallway an hour ago, and I don’t remember seeing us appear, so we must not. Didn’t. Will not. Whatever, fuck.”

“You know, I think the most difficult aspect of time travel is with regards to the vocabulary. The English language simply doesn’t have the appropriate tenses to describe it accurately,” Rose muses.

“Yeah? I think if you’re in a situation complicated enough to need it, you’ve probably screwed up royally somewhere. Like, more royally than two kings playing polo and wearing monocles on white steeds. But that’s not important, we’re here,” says Dave.

Rose looks around. “Looks like any other room in this labyrinth to me.”

“Labyrinth huh? You saying this is anything less than architectural perfection? Are you implying I am not the Leonardo da Vinci of building design?” Dave demands. "Besides, I've seen John's house, it ain't much better."

Rose clutches her heart. “Shocking accusations! I would never imply such a thing about your skills as an industrial engineer, Dave. Perish the thought,” she says.

“Of course you wouldn’t, you know I’m just that incredible,” Dave says. “Anyway, enough screwing around. I need to focus for this next part, because using these things to transport more than one person at a time is kind of a giant pain in the ass.”  
  
“Can’t you alchemize a set of turntables more suited to the task?” Rose asks.

“See, that’s why you’re our Seer, Rose. Always full of insight and innovative new ideas,” Dave grumbles.

Rose responds with a flat stare.  
  
“Seriously though, future me doesn’t have a set, and I’ve tried. We don’t have enough grist for anything I can come up with. Get off my back, Lalonde. Being the Time guy is hard, and nobody understands, so we’re stuck with these pieces of shit for now.”  
  
“Spare me your melodrama Strider, and let’s just get this over with,” Rose says with a sigh.  
  
“Of course, I was just waiting on ya’ll anyway,” Dave pointedly ignores Rose’s snort of amusement and continues, “You still alive back there, bro? Didn’t think you were capable of being quiet for this long.”

Rose leans to the side to get a better view of the boy slung over Dave’s back. “He appears to have fallen asleep, Dave.”

“Shit, that didn't take long. Guess he's related to Harley after all.” Dave shrugs his left shoulder and brings the Timetables to bear. “Anyway, let’s get started. For this to actually work at all, we’re going to need to make actual, physical contact.”  
  
“O such horror! Howsoever shall I cope?” Rose says, pretending to cower. She moves to Dave’s side and places a hand on his shoulder. “Will this suffice?”  
  
“That’ll do. Relish the contact, who knows when you’ll get another chance to touch something this amazing?” says Dave.  
  
“I’ll make sure to take a mental snapshot and enshrine it in my memory forevermore,” says Rose. “Now if you’re quite finished, I’d prefer to get this over with.”  
  
“All right then. Let’s make this happen.”  
  
“Let’s do this,” says Rose through gritted teeth.

“Didn’t I tell you to relax, Lalonde? I do this all the…” Dave puts his hands on the Timetables with a flourish. “…time.”

The three kids—one slung over another’s shoulder, another with her face set and fingers digging into her friend’s shoulder—disappear, and are instantly claimed by the now-distant waters of exactly one hour ago.


	4. All Together Now

Rain knocks softly against the window glass, as though endlessly seeking entry. A familiar beat is produced. It’s the one Emptiness uses to keep her symphonies in time. And it is promptly interrupted by a flash of light and the arrival of three young teenagers.

John blinks and looks up. “Whoa…hey Dave? Can you put me down?”

Dave grunts his assent, but finds himself unable to move. Suddenly both his shoulders are supporting the weight of an individual. He glances to his left and finds that Rose has maintained her death grip on his arm and is leaning heavily on him. Her eyes are clenched shut and her face is pale, her breath coming in sharp bursts through her nose.

“Hey. Rose. Either you let go, or I drop Egbert. Which is it gonna be?” Dave asks.

Rose sucks in a shuddering breath and straightens. “Of course, John’s wellbeing is the first thing on my mind after something like that.”

“That’s really nice of you Rose, but I think you should be more worried about yourself! You don’t look so good, what’s wrong?” John asks.

Rose rubs her temples. “Your scorn is duly noted, John. To answer your question, it would appear to be unwise for those who are especially familiar with the dark gods to travel through time. I have absolutely no desire to repeat that experience. Ever.”

“Told you they’re pervs. Creepy calamari have no sense of personal space. Never had any problems while time traveling though, and they’re my dream-buddies too,” says Dave.

Rose shrugs. “Maybe it’s because you’re not a seer. Maybe it’s because you’re the Knight of Time. Hell, for all I know, it’s because of those hideously unironic shades you insist on wearing.”  
  
“Hey, don’t knock the shades. You just don’t understand irony.”

“You keep using that word, Strider. I do not think it means what you think it means.”  
  
“Yeah, here I am, guy who lives comfortably ensconced in irony every day, I’ve got no idea.”

“Ensconced, are you? Then surely you must understand how you misuse the word!”

John listens as the two volley arguments and insults back and forth. He slips unnoticed from Dave’s shoulder and sits against the wall, hands behind his head. His eyes dart back and forth as he watches his two friends argue. The sentences carry a hint of cadence, almost as if Rose and Dave are reciting lines from memory. And now that he pays closer attention, they definitely seem to be responding to each other faster than expected. In fact, some of these lines sound awfully familiar...maybe if he just…sort of…

“—comic ironic? It’s at best an example of a classic internet trolling attempt.” Rose is saying.

“And that’s the genius. It—” Dave begins.

“—It’s ironic that I’m trolling at all!” John interrupts. “And then Rose, you were going to say,” And John adopts an exaggeratedly distinguished accent and tilts his nose up at the pair, “That’s hardly ironic, it’s merely childish.”

Dave and Rose stare at John, utterly nonplussed.

“John, how did you know that’s what I was going to say?” Rose asks.

“Yeah bro, you get some crazy psychic powers with your shooshy ones?”

John grins. “No way! You two just have this argument at least once a week, and you always say the same things! I didn’t realize it at first, but I knew I recognized your lines! You always talk to me after you argue, and you say the same things then too. I just didn’t realize it ‘cause I’m not used to hearing your voices!”

Rose blinks and, presumably, so does Dave. They exchange an embarrassed glance with each other.

“No way do we argue that much. Once a month, tops, man,” Dave mutters.

“Nuh-uh. I counted once. Definitely about once a week,” says John.

“This is a revelation as stunning as it is embarrassing,” says Rose. “How about we just continue as we were, and address this some other time?”

“Yeah, let’s move on,” agrees Dave.

John stands shakily, supporting himself against the wall with one hand. “That sounds like a good idea to me, I’m exhausted already.”

Rose scoffs. “Are you implying our shenanigans exhaust you, John?”

“No comment,” John replies, grinning.

Rose rolls her eyes, draws her needlewands from her strife specibus and levels them at John. Before he has a chance to protest, a beam of energy arcs from the tips and surrounds him. John is levitated into the air, supported only by a luminous bubble of transparent gold and blue energy. Rose looks over her shoulder at Dave, who is totally not relaxing from a half-completed lunge of surprise. Paragon of cool, that guy.

“I thought that perhaps I could save you some effort this time. Shall we?” Rose asks innocently.

“Sure, whatever,” Dave says, shrugging.

Rose makes her way out of the room, John trailing behind her like an overgrown, giggling balloon. Rose idly flicks her needlewand downward, and John neatly avoids cracking his skull against the top of the doorframe. Dave returns his Timetables to his sylladex and follows the bizarre spectacle walking—and floating respectively—in front of him. He shrugs. At least now he knows what’s going on this time around. Speaking of which…

As he passes a doorway, Dave reaches a hand through, grabs something and pulls it out without looking. His hand emerges holding another Dave by the arm.

“Need your help, c’mon.” he says.

To his credit, the other Dave doesn’t bat an eye before joining the group. “What’s up?”

“Gonna need an extra pair of fucking sweet shades to help out. Also, time travel. But mostly shades.”  
  
“Yeah, thought so,” says Past Dave.

Ahead, John is exploring the limits of the bubble he finds himself levitated by. He is able to move and rotate freely, but the position of the bubble relative to Rose’s wand never changes without her action. Predictably, he is spinning around, making whooshing noises under his breath. In one of his revolutions, he catches a glimpse of the dual Daves behind him, and stops to get a better look. After gawping for a moment, he smiles brightly and waves.

“Hi Dave!”

Past Dave nods slightly. “’sup?”  
  
Rose looks over her shoulder. “Oh? Have we added another to our entourage? I fear we’ll be overwhelmed soon, John. Will you protect me from the cresting tide of ironic sunglasses and feigned nonchalance?”

“You bet, Rose!” John exclaims, striking a pose with one arm outstretched and both palms splayed. “No way is Team Dave getting through Team Egbert-Lalonde!”  
  
Rose turns fully and raises an eyebrow at John. “I didn’t expect such exuberance, though in hindsight that was probably folly of me. Regardless, the thought is appreciated…though I believe I’d prefer ‘Lalonde-Egbert’, myself.”

John shrugs. “Okay, that’s fine too.”

Past Dave speaks up. “Are you done?”

“Yeah, the two of you can do your weird flirty thing later. We’ve got chumps to nurse, and the ill to tend to,” says Present Dave.

John cocks his head to the side. “Flirty thing? Rose, were we doing a flirty thing?” He asks, turning to Rose.

She merely rolls her eyes, turns and continues walking. “We’re nearly there anyway. The plan was to use the series of rooms behind the blackout curtain, if you recall, to save John’s eyes from unnecessary candy-blindness.”

“Oh, is that what that was for? I thought you set it up because you wanted to be all mystical and spooky!” John says.

“As a matter of fact, I’m rather fond of my Land. Despite my incidental appearance as a dark wizard caricature, I find it somewhat soothing,” Rose replies haughtily. “It was not without some displeasure that I began tearing it apart to learn its secrets.”  
  
“You were tearing it apart? Why?” 

Rose sighs. “Because I _detest_ dungeon-crawling, as the game would otherwise insist upon. I decided to simply remove the middle-man and jump straight to the end by bringing the end to me. It’s worked wonderfully so far.”

The four of them approach the curtain hanging in the hallway, and Rose sweeps it aside. As John’s eyes adjust to the darkness, he hears a match flare, and is struck by an odd sense of déjà vu. He turns to his left and sees an open doorway, framing a sitting Rose. She is holding a lit match in her hand and reaching toward a candle on a bedside table. Under the covers in the bed is…himself. He boggles for a moment before he recalls the recent time shenanigans and doesn’t exactly understand, but dubs it unimportant. He waves at Past Rose, who looks up, looks back down, and does a double take before waving back weakly.

Present Rose enters the next room down the hall and lowers John to the floor before releasing him from the needlewands’ energies. The room is entirely bare, save for a lonely end table in the corner.

“Oh man, I bet you were so confused just now Rose!” John exclaims.

“Hm? What are you—oh, do you mean an hour ago-now?” Rose asks.

“Yeah! You were totally surprised!”

“I suppose the realities of time travel hadn’t quite dawned on me at the point. It is certainly strange being privy to knowledge about a single event from multiple perspectives simultaneously, but also in my personal future.” Rose pauses for a moment to process what she said. “I believe I have a little more sympathy for you now Dave.”

“Holy shit Rose, that was almost human sounding of you. What does the shooshy dweeb here do to you in the next hour?” Past-Dave asks.

“Oh dear, you’re right. Quickly, fetch me my crown woven from the solidified tears of the tortured peasantry and my black whisperscepter made of the coagulated cries of the damned before it’s too late!” Rose cries.

“Hey!” John interjects, “I’m here to put a stop to that, remember? And also free you from your dark masters and stuff!”

Present Dave rolls his eyes and motions at Past Dave. The two of them leave the room, unnoticed by Rose or John.

Rose rounds on John, her face eerily calm. “But John, what if I don’t want to be freed? In fact,” she beings, and a toothy grin creeps onto her features, “I think I’d like you to join me.”

“No, Rose! The power of…uh…wind compels you!” John says, holding his hands up defensively.

A breeze stirs in the room, and quickly becomes a localized gale, roaring in the kids’ ears, and overwhelming all other sound. It whips in a circle around Rose, imprisoning her in the eye of the miniature tornado. Her scarf and the ends of her dress whip to and fro, and she clutches her throat in horror and falls to the ground. She claws at the air as the windstorm begins to die down reaches up dramatically.

“Noooo! This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me, Heir!” she hisses.

John is the first to start giggling. Rose lies on the ground, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips, snickering quietly. Rose stands up briefly, crosses to John and sits against the wall next to him.

“That was incredibly silly, John,” she says, a ghost of smile on her face.

John is still giggling. “And it’s definitely proof that you’re free of evil influences! No bad guy could be that silly.”

“I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that you’d be capable of silliness of that magnitude, antagonist or not.” Rose says. “And I must admit, that I was genuinely surprised by the degree of control you wield over the wind.”

“That’s nothing! Those wands you had earlier were awesome! But didn’t you alchemize a better set? The Spikes of Ogloboggoloth or something?”

“The Thorns of Oglogoth, John. And yes, but what of them?”

John rests his elbows on his knees, and leans his head on them, facing Rose. “So why weren’t you using them just now?”

Rose frowns and looks away. “While may give the appearance of blithely disregarding the danger inherent, I am perfectly cognizant of the fact that the Thorns are indeed weapons of darkness. I would be remiss if I allowed harm to come to you, physical or mental, through my indiscretions. Thus my use of the comparatively weaker needlewands on you.”

John points at Rose and grins. “Hah! Told you I’d come free you from your dark masters!”  
  
“You’ve got some work ahead of you yet if that’s your intention. Regardless,” She says, clasping her hands together, “Swoon.” And she slides along the wall toward John. Along the way, she slips, and her head lands squarely on John’s shoulder.

John blushes crimson. “Uh…Rose, uh…” he stutters.

“Yes?” she replies. Her voice is steady, but she is blushing equally fiercely and refuses to back down.  
  
“You’re uh…kinda on my shoulder?”   
  
“So I am. I spent the better part of an hour watching over you; surely you wouldn’t begrudge me a few minutes?” She says, closing her eyes.

John blinks and says, “Oh yeah, I guess that’s fair,” and closes his eyes as well.

Several minutes pass in silence before a thump and a muffled curse from outside the room rouse Rose from her torpor. She looks up and furrows her brow in confusion. Past Dave is walking backward into the room carrying half of a mattress. Past Dave walks further into the room and Present Dave soon appears, carrying the other end of the mattress. The two Daves drop it against wall opposite the doorway and turn to face John and Rose. They exchange a glance, their actions mirroring each other exactly. Present Dave shakes his head and Past Dave shrugs. Past Dave walks out of the room.

“Don’t forget, bro. Twenty-seven minutes,” Dave calls after Past Dave. He doesn’t receive an answer. He shrugs and turns back to John and Rose. “So I guess I don’t get an invitation to Cuddlefest ’09? What’s a guy to do, huh? Stare all forlornly at the happy feelings, Scrooging it up from the window while some freaky ghost shows me what could’ve been if only I weren’t such a colossal douche to everybody all the time?”

Rose says nothing, but raises her eyebrows.  
  
“Don’t answer that.”  
  
Rose rolls her eyes and shuts them again. She hears the sound of Dave crossing the room and sitting heavily on the mattress, the springs _gloink_ ing noisily under him. The room is silent after that, save for the creaking of springs and even breaths of a sleeping John.

Rose sighs. “I can feel you staring, Strider. What is it?” She asks without opening her eyes.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted my help. I’m just hanging out being useful, waiting on your every beck and call like the finest butler on Butler Island.” 

The mattress springs creak again and a series of thumps makes its way across the room before fading back into silence at the doorway. There is a short eternity of silence.

“So,” Dave begins, “Either of us going to address the elephant in the room here? Or are we just gonna let it traipse around like its freaky clown handlers accidentally let a mouse into the ring, ignoring the crazy shitstorm going on right in front of us?”

Rose opens her eyes to see what Dave means. She glances at John, down at herself, then back at Dave. Dave nods. Rose shrugs and closes her eyes once more. “Yes, I believe that sounds about right.”

“Yeah, okay. You gonna help me move him onto the mattress? Didn’t haul it in for nothing, you know,” he says.

“Mmmf. Five more minutes.”

**

John awakes later, laying down on something soft this time. He feels much better than he did after his last awakening, but that may be because even a mattress on the ground is better than Dave’s rail-thin shoulder. “Much better” isn’t a __huge improvement though; his nose is entirely clogged and serves no purpose, save for the decorative. Mucus is draining down the back of his throat, his headache has returned with a vengeance, and the fever has left him covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Wait, that’s not entirely right. Only half of him feels sweaty and overheated. He feels constricted too, and for a moment he thinks he’s gotten tangled in the sheets, except there are none. He opens his eyes in an attempt to solve the mystery, and discovers an arm that doesn’t belong to him wrapped around his midsection. He turns slightly and discovers that the arm in question belongs to Rose. She’s curled up against his back with one arm wrapped around him. Now that he thinks about it, he can feel her chest rising and falling against his back in time with her breath.

He wonders for a moment how the two of them have escaped Dave’s omnipresent ridicule. For that matter, he feels like he should be more concerned about his current position. Instead he just feels warm and safe.

A sleepy smile crosses John’s face as he closes his eyes again. _Maybe this is what god-tier dreams are like. No way this is real…_


	5. Epilogue

Rose is sitting on the edge of the mattress rubbing sleep from her eyes when Dave walks in, radiating smugness. He takes his customary position leaning against the doorframe, one leg crossed in front of the other, arms folded, and a smirk on his face.

“And what, may I ask,” Rose says, yawning, “Is the cause of your latest sense of insufferably over-inflated self-satisfaction?”

Dave raises an eyebrow. “Shit Lalonde, you get even more verbose when you’re half-asleep. No, for your information, I just got done schooling some past fool in the ways of advanced alchemization. Here’s your fact for the day: shaving cream is really fucking flammable. Combine that shit with a clock in an alchemiter, and you’ve got yourself one hell of an unstable time bomb. The more you know.”

Rose simply stares sleepily at Dave and doesn’t say anything. She rubs her eyes again in lieu of a response and stands up, stretching. She arches her back with a resounding series of cracks and one huge pop! from her spine.

“Ahh…much better.” She pauses for a moment to roll her neck before continuing, “Dave, I cannot help but wonder if your abuse of your past self should be classified as mere teenaged mischief, or a deeper sense of self-loathing.”

Dave holds up his hands. “Whoa, don’t you start with that psychobabble bullshit at me. I only do this shit ironically. That and I’ve been chronologically strong-armed into it. ‘sides, Future Me did it to me, I figure it’s only fair I get a chance to do it back to Past Me.”

Rose squeezes her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’ll navigate the psychological consequences of time-travel related self-abuse another time, perhaps when I’m less lethargic. And perhaps when the threat of imminent doom no longer hangs above us like our personal sword of Damocles. That does rather put a damper on psychochronological musings.”

Dave scoffs, “There’s not a single doubt in my mind that you could write a full dissertation on it complete with convoluted and unnecessary footnotes and citations sprouting out of every page. But we’ve got more important things to worry about. We’re near the end of this iteration, so wake Narcolepto over there up.”

Rose looks over at John and Dave follows her gaze. Silence weighs heavily on the two of them, both unwilling to break the tranquility of the scene.

Eventually, Rose heaves a sigh. “It’s such a shame, you know. There’s simply not enough time.”

“The hell are you talking about? We’ve got more time than an antique clock shop up in here.”

Rose shakes her head. “No, we have no more than an hour. Yes, we have the option of repeating that same hour endlessly, but it isn’t the same. In this one hour, what changes? Everything is already predestined in this hour. The existence of fate is not something I find myself very comfortable with.”

“See, there’s your problem. I keep saying you can’t overthink this time travel shit. Just gives you a headache.”

“Not all of us can be as blissfully apathetic about our situation, Dave. I have to admit some envy toward your indifference.”

Dave finally turns away from John to look at Rose. “You’re just grumpy because you can’t get a decent nap.”

Rose snorts a laugh before she can catch herself, and refuses to make eye contact with Dave. “Yes, the source of my frustration is sleeplessness, not existential conundrums,” she says, and moves toward John.

She shakes him awake and presses his glasses into his groping hand. He gives her a mumbled _“Thnks”_ and sits up, blinking blearily.

“Rise and shine Egbert, we’re gonna go wreck causality’s shit some more,” says Dave.

“…huh?” John replies eloquently.

“What Dave means to say is it’s again time to reverse by an hour. You’ve got to get up,” Rose adds.

John blinks owlishly at the two of them for a moment before yawning. “But I just fell asleep!” He says. “And I had some really good dreams too…I think you were in them, Rose!”

“Really? Perhaps you can tell me about them after we reverse again. It really is imperative that we get moving,” Rose says.

“In fact,” John says, ignoring her, “I’m pretty sure the reason it was a good dream was because you were there.”

Dave’s waggles his eyebrows suggestively at John. “Really now. Just what were you dreaming of, Egbert?”

John looks blankly up at Dave. “What?”

Dave says nothing, waiting.

John’s eyes widen. “Oh! Oh, no! Nothing like…that. Oh geez, no way Dave,” John says, blushing furiously.

Rose pokes her head out of the doorway for a moment before drawing back. “If you’re done antagonizing John, Dave, I believe our past-selves have just departed. We can leave at any time.”

John stands up, legs shaking slightly. “Wait a minute. I want to make something before we go. Where’s your alchemiter, Rose?”

Rose frowns. “Downstairs and on a platform outside. Why do you need it?”  
  
John gets up and wobbles his way to the doorway. He pokes his head into the hall and looks both ways. After confirming that the past-selves are nowhere to be seen he slips into the room next door. Rose and Dave exchange a glance and follow.

When they peer inside, they find John tiptoeing across to the end table with the sleeping Past Dave’s shades on them. John reaches out to the shades and is just about to captchalogue them when Past Dave grunts and rolls over. John freezes, arm outstretched and stares at him, every muscle tensed. Finally, Past Dave’s breath resumes the even rhythm of the sleeping and John relaxes. He captchalogues the shades without incident and returns to the doorway.

“The hell are you doing with my shades man?” Dave whispers.  “Don’t tell me you think you’re nearly cool enough to wear those. It’s a miracle I don’t freeze mine they’re so chilled by my presence.”

John rolls his eyes. “Which way did you say the alchemiter was, Rose?” He whispers, ignoring Dave.

“This way,” Rose whispers back, taking the lead. “Though I too am curious as to your actions at the moment. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?” She asks, turning to John.

John walks beside Rose, staring straight ahead. “Don’t worry, you’ll see. I have a plan!”

The trio makes its way out to the alchemiter platform, Rose and John squinting at the sudden brightness. One of the many golden clouds is currently hovering over the platform, and slowly dampening the group. John waves one of his hands up at the clouds, and a sudden gust of wind blows them away, clearing the air directly above them. Dave raises his eyebrows in mute appreciation and Rose nods, impressed.

John makes his way over to the upgraded alchemiter and slots a blank card into the Designix portion of the alchemiter. He enters the code for Dave’s sunglasses and punches the card.

“Hey Rose,” John asks, turning to her, “What’s the captcha code for your scarf?”

“My scarf?” Rose asks, confused.

“Yep!” John says, “That should do the trick here!”

Rose shrugs, and unties the scarf and captchalogues it. She hands the card to John, who flips it over and enters the code into the Designix and punches the blank card again. John thanks Rose, and hands her back the scarf’s captcha card.

“Do you have any intention of revealing your plan, John? All this mystery is, appropriately, baffling,” Rose says, retying the scarf around her waist.

John removes the captcha card from the Designix and slots it into the totem pedestal. “Just a sec! You’ll see real soon, I promise!” He says.

The alchemiter projects a hologram of the card’s associated totem. John activates the alchemiter and it scans the totem-hologram. With a flash of light, the item is produced and appears in the center of the alchemiter’s platform.

John walks over, picks up the newly-created item and hands it to Rose. She takes it, and turns it over in her hands for a moment, examining it. It is a pair of slender glasses with angular silver frames and dark purple lenses. Rose looks up at John, her expression blank.

“John.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you make me rose-tinted glasses?”

“Yep! I heard you and Dave talking about how his shades kept him safe from the horrorterrors when time traveling or whatever, and thought maybe if you had a pair…” He trails off, uncertain.

Rose eyes John critically. Any other day, Rose would’ve considered John’s actions to be the ultimate in passive-aggression condescension. A pun on her name, no less! She had barely been able to take his birthday gift and its associated note at face value. But…that had been nothing but handwriting and text. With the boy standing in front of her, with his earnest smile and hopeful expression, it is difficult to interpret his actions as anything but honest concern for a friend.

Rose puts on the glasses. “Thank you John. They’re perfect.”

John’s smile redoubles its efforts to take up the entirety of his face. “You’re welcome Rose! I hope they work!”

“Ya’ll done being sappier than an entire grove of maple trees so we can finally make this happen?” Dave says, his Timetables at the ready.

“Just a second! I have to go put your shades back!” John says, running into the house before either Rose or Dave has a chance to protest.

The two of them are left standing outside with the only sound being the distant and omnipresent drumming of the rain. Without John’s intervention, the clouds slowly begin to drift back over the alchemiter’s platform and both Rose and Dave are soon being rained on once more. They stand side by side in silence for a time.

“I’m surprised you’ve refrained from comment thus far, Dave,” Rose says.

“This may come as a shock to you Rose, but sometimes I just got nothin’ to say. You’ll just have to deal without my sick burns for once,” he returns.

“Would it be fair to say that a damper has been put upon the aforementioned burns for now?” Rose asks with a significant look up at the rain clouds above them.

Dave stifles a groan with a hand over his face. “Oh gog, he’s affecting your sense of humor now. I don’t know if I can handle that many puns in a day.”

“At least he isn’t affecting my speech patterns like a particular troll I could name,” Rose says smugly.  
  
“…touché Lalonde, touché.”

John bursts back out of the house and stops, out of breath and panting. He leans forward and rests his hands on his knees for a moment before straightening.

“Okay! Ready whenever, you guys!” he says.

Rose turns so she’s facing Dave, checks to ensure her new glasses are still present and places her hand on Dave’s shoulder. John does the same with Dave’s other shoulder. Dave spins up the Timetables, and just as they’re about to depart, Rose slides her hand into John’s and holds on tight. If he’d been inclined to look at Rose at the moment, John would’ve noticed that she was clenching her jaw a little more tightly than was maybe necessary—that the lines of her face were a little tighter, her breathing a little more ragged.

Even though John didn’t see any of that, he still understood what the gesture meant. He gives Rose’s hand a reassuring squeeze in response. He says everything he needs to without a single word.

_Everything is going to be okay._

The three disappear again in a flash of light.

**

They will arrive an hour in the past again. John will inquire about Rose’s glasses, and she will inform him that they worked just fine, and thank him again. If asked, Dave will pretend he didn’t see Rose take John by the hand. There are just some things you do for you best bro, or even your paradox-sister. If that involves willful denial and temporary blindness, then so be it. You know they’d do the same for you, even if you’d never say it out loud.

The next eight iterations of the same hour will pass relatively uneventfully. There are perhaps one or two snapshots that bear examination.

**  
  
“Hi Rose!”

Rose stops in her tracks, momentarily bewildered. “John? What are you doing in my kitchen?”

John turns his head toward her, smiling sheepishly. “I got tired of just sitting around in bed, and I’m feeling a lot better anyway. I thought I’d do something useful!”

Rose narrows her eyes. “That’s…fine, John. But the source of my confusion is the fact that not two minutes ago, you were asleep on the bed upstairs.”

John’s face brightens in understanding. “Oh! Right! Time travel, Rose, duh! I forgot, you’re from the first iteration still, huh?” John turns back to stove, and begins fiddling with one of the dials. “Do you have any matches around here?”

Rose blinks for a moment, perturbed by the apparent non-sequitur before opening one of the drawers under the kitchen counters and pulling out a box of matches. “What is it exactly that you’re doing down here?” She asks, handing the box to John.

“Well,” John begins, leaning down to look at the stove’s burners, “I thought I’d make us some food, because I’m feeling sorta hungry. I mentioned it to you, and you told me to go check out the kitchen. You said you’d come help me in a bit, but I didn’t think you meant past-you! Where are your pots?”

Rose points out a cabinet to John’s right and he clanks around inside for a moment before drawing a suitably large pot out and placing it on the stove.

“John,” Rose says, furrowing her brow, “You do realize that the house’s power is out, right?”

“Yeah, I thought that was gonna be a problem at first, but nope! Turns out you’ve got a gas stove!”

“I suppose I’m not as well-versed as you are with cooking appliances, but I fail to understand how that makes a difference.”

“Well,” John says, turning one of the knobs on the stove, “With a gas stove, only the ignitey part actually needs electricity. If you turn on the gas, all you need to light it is…” John strikes the match and carefully brings the flame near the stove’s burner. With a whoosh, the gas catches fire and settles into a steady blue burn. “…a flame!” John waves the match out and sets it aside.

John grabs a large can of chicken noodle soup from the counter next to him—Was that in the pantry? Rose wonders—and carefully pours it into the pot.

Rose watches over John’s shoulder as he adjusts the burners and stirs the soup slowly, methodically. John is uncharacteristically silent and Rose is almost tempted to hold her breath, lest she otherwise break the tranquility. As she listens to the silence, Rose hears the things that make it incomplete; the quiet hissing of the burners, the clink of the wooden spoon on the edges of the pot, the quiet humming of…what is that?

As Rose narrows her eyes and listens more closely, she realizes that the humming is coming from John. He’s humming a slow, almost mournful tune under his breath and swaying subtly in time with it. Rose realizes that while she’s seen still pictures of John before the game, and live video of him afterward, it’s not the same as meeting him in person. As he stands there stirring far too much soup for a single person, humming happily to himself, utterly focused, Rose thinks that she prefers it this way.

It would not occur to her until much later that John’s good mood was the result of another’s presence, rather than the simple act of cooking.

**

Approximately one hour after a harried-looking Dave and a determined Rose haul in an unconscious John into Rose’s home, ten separate versions of the trio exit again. Twenty-seven warp an hour into the past, and three watch the flashes of light fire off one by one.

Rose turns to Dave. “Any other loops to fulfill?”

Dave looks at the house and shrugs. “Don’t think so. I’ll need to be back eight hours from now to wake my lazyass past self up, but I can worry about that later.”

Rose nods and turns to John. “Think you’re sufficiently recovered from your mysterious illness?”

“Yeah, I feel fine now. Dunno what was up earlier, but I’m good to go!”

“I suppose it’s time, then. Follow me, it’s a short flight to my Land’s second gate.” Rose brandishes her Thorns and is borne aloft by their power.

Dave removes Unreal Air from his sylladex and quickly hops on it before it can float away without him. John lifts himself into the air with his newfound control over the wind, barely ruffling the sand around him. The three fly in silence toward a single white dot in the distance, a tiny island of sand in the middle of the ocean. They land beneath the swirling spirograph symbol, and wait for the noise of their passage to die down.

“Everyone remember the plan?” John asks once everyone can hear again.

“Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten already,” says Rose.

“Geez Rose! Really? You and Dave go to Lohac and do whatever it is you said you had to do, then I—”

“—go to the battlefield and retrieve the Tumor. I know John, I was being sarcastic.”

“…oh. Well.” John coughs.

Dave rolls his eyes and allows Unreal Air to float a few feet off the ground. “Okay, I’m out. You two are gonna take longer than an old lady paying at a grocery store on senior discount day. I’ll be on the other side doing important shit while you old biddies hunt down every coupon in your purses.” Dave adjusts his weight on the board and goes shooting up through the gate.

Rose and John turn back to face each other, and their eyes meet. Quick as a flash, Rose leans forward and kisses John on the cheek. “Stay safe,” she whispers, and maintains eye contact for an instant longer before flying up through the gate.

John stares at nothing for a moment before he brings his hand to his face. His smile outshines the Land around him.

**

Elsewhere, a silly girl claps her hands together and attempts to lean closer to a par of complicated-looking glasses perched on her face, and only succeeds in leaning forward.

“Eeeeee!” she squeals happily, “They are so _cute_ together!”

_fin_


End file.
